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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628133">annoying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/renascensory/pseuds/renascensory'>renascensory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>shuake week 2020 (loosely inspired and late) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Sex, Not Beta Read, akechi goro is an idiot actually, nothing happens basically</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:15:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/renascensory/pseuds/renascensory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Akechi waited pointedly and cheerfully until every last one of the other Phantom Thieves left the attic. They threw suspicious looks at him, which he pretended to ignore. They tried miming their displeasure to their leader, who only ever shrugged and smiled in a way that offered no insight as to what, if anything, he might be thinking.</p><p>Not that the Detective Prince had any more luck figuring him out, but that’s why he was lingering after the meeting. To catch him alone, for one. To take the opportunity to explore his domain and glean what he could from analyzing it. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>shuake week 2020 (loosely inspired and late) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>annoying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akechi waited pointedly and cheerfully until every last one of the other Phantom Thieves left the attic. They threw suspicious looks at him, which he pretended to ignore. They tried miming their displeasure to their leader, who only ever shrugged and smiled in a way that offered no insight as to what, if anything, he might be thinking.</p><p>Not that the Detective Prince had any more luck figuring him out, but that’s why he was lingering after the meeting. To catch him alone, for one. To take the opportunity to explore his domain and glean what he could from analyzing it. </p><p>After all, the big five personality traits-- extraversion, agreeableness, openness, conscientiousness, and neuroticism --could be appraised through an investigation of a person’s living space. There had been that study where the observers had gone through a participant’s dorm room or something and rated the person’s personality traits, without having met the actual resident, and their judgment was more accurate than one might expect— </p><p>Ah, that’s all the people. Just Joker and the cat left, deep in an exchange of urgent whispers. Whatever. So Morgana didn’t want to give them any privacy. What a surprise. The shadow of a smug smile passed over Akechi’s face. <em> Too bad; he’s going to have me stay and make </em><b><em>you</em> </b><em>leave. That’s why you’re over by the stairs talking, and I’m patiently standing over here until you’re gone. </em></p><p>The sense of triumph stemmed from having so thoroughly ensnared Akira in his trap. Obviously.</p><p>Akechi turned back to face the shelf and its ramshackle collection of souvenirs. Besides, he supposed, the cat’s irritation highlighted another benefit of using this <em>particular </em>method to catch Kurusu alone; forced emotional intimacy had many utilities in the development of social ties. In film language, taking someone else’s food then consuming and enjoying it in front of them was shorthand for domination and control. Likewise, by having the whole group’s meeting lead directly into a one-on-one hangout, all of the other Thieves were confronted with the sight of <em>their </em> Joker being taken in front of them.</p><p>(As in, taken <em>out-- </em> socially!-- as in, for an outing, so <em>out </em>as in <em>away from home </em>rather than <em>taken out </em>meaning to—oh, nevermind. Why was he bothering to edit a script he never planned to speak aloud? No one could hear his internal monologue and assume he meant either assassination <em> or worse</em>.)</p><p>He turned back and saw that Akira was now standing alone, leaning against the rails that separated the attic room from the stairs. The cat was gone. How long had the cat been gone? </p><p>While he had no answer to that question, it was still easier to entertain than trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Kurusu’s expression. Between those stupid, superfluous glasses and the, just, whatever made his eyes all… soft and unguarded and <em>also stupid</em>… Thinking about it for any length of time was almost guaranteed to induce a headache and be otherwise unproductive. So he smiled and deflected instead.</p><p>“I was admiring the wide array of decorative memorabilia you have on display,” he said, in the voice that he’d practiced just for the purpose of deceiving Kurusu. He had mixed it like a perfume maker, starting from the ‘Detective Prince on TV’ and adding in a bit of reluctant awe (“<em>I’m so impressed in spite of myself! People are boring but you’re so </em> <b> <em>fucking </em> </b> <em> special, I’m dazzled against my will.</em>”) and a few drops of vulnerability (“<em>Goodness, oh me oh my, I just end up telling you all my secrets. I guess I just feel so safe and secure in your company, I can’t help myself, oh dear.</em>”) until he had a blend that he only pulled out for these encounters. “You’ve covered considerable ground to have amassed all of these, despite having only arrived in Tokyo seven months ago.”</p><p>Predictably, Kurusu did not verbally respond. He tilted his head to the side in his usual, non-committal way, pushed off from the banister, and (<em>sauntered, shuffled? Meandering but purposefully. Prowled? Walked. Simplest was best, sometimes </em>) across the room with both hands lodged in his pockets. </p><p>Akira could say the most disarming things, perhaps made more potent by how rarely he spoke in between. Akechi, to his endless chagrin, had never mastered the art of silence. He knew it could be an incredibly effective interrogation tool-- people, especially nervous or guilty ones, would often reveal more than planned in their desperation to fill an uncomfortable silence --but he had too much to <em>say </em>to just muffle himself to make a point. Kurusu could keep his economy of words; Akechi had a wealth of them.</p><p>No matter. He could carry on a conversation until Akira deigned to contribute. “There must be a story behind each of these acquisitions,” he said, tapping one gloved finger on the shelf in front of a model swan boat. “I imagine I could guess some, but others elude me. The Featherman collectible has to be either Sakura or Sakamato’s doing. I have no clue as to the origins of the plush, ah… is it a sea slug?”</p><p>“Yoshizawa-san,” Akira said, with an infuriating little smile. <em> Oh, </em><b><em>now</em> </b><em>you find your voice. </em></p><p>Wait. “Would this be from the aquarium in Shinagawa, by any chance?” The smile vanished. Akechi kept all traces of celebration off his face. He also kept his attention entirely away from part of his mind that wasn’t satisfied with <em>just </em>wiping the smile off his face, <em> the cheating bastard</em>.</p><p>(the backburner where he kept the thoughts he wasn’t ready to deal with was at a rolling boil)</p><p>Akira nodded, then lifted one hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Akechi might not have been quite the detective that the media depicted him as, but he still knew a tell when he saw one. A physical manifestation of a burdened mind: guilty, trying to hide something, caught in a web. Akira never seemed to bother to hide his. He would scratch his neck or his nose, bounce his legs, grab hold of a single curl of hair at a time and tug on it, roll the strands between his fingers. All perfectly visible. Nothing suppressed, nothing performed.</p><p><em> Annoying</em>.</p><p>Akechi nodded and hummed and turned his attention away from the shelf, folding his arms over his chest and pacing away. What else was there to look at in this dingy little excuse for a room? The retired booth seat that had apparently been judged suitable for storage and <em>use </em>instead of disposal, somehow? The rickety table that held up an ancient television and equally prehistoric video game console with rusted screws and a minor miracle? The bed that— not that.</p><p>In lieu of looking at the (<em>sad, shitty</em>) thin mattress propped up on (<em>pathetic, ridiculous</em>) plastic crates (<em>and definitely not exciting in any way, for any reason</em>), Akechi swept his gaze somewhere safer: the ceiling.</p><p>Stars? Little plastic stick-on… stars, yeah. At least a dozen. He raised his eyebrows at Akira and, without uncrossing his arms, pointed one finger up at the attic beam.</p><p><em> Oh, ho. </em> <b> <em>That’s </em></b><em>a readable expression. </em>Embarrassment. Akira’s lips pressed tight and twisted in a little petulant moue. Akechi would bet money that if Akira’s ears weren’t completely obscured by his untamed hair, they’d glow a brighter crimson at the tops than the red that was spreading across his cheeks.</p><p>“I take it that these are yours?” Akechi purred. “I might have guessed that they were left behind by some prior occupant, but based on that reaction I’ll have to revise my assumption.”</p><p>“They’re mine,” Akira mumbled back. </p><p>What a conflict. On one hand, seeing his rival squirm was singularly pleasing, and he could happily lord over Akira for days without end, mocking him with a gentle smile and plausible deniability. On the other hand… Ah, the same warm pool of molten gratification had an impulse standing at its shore, tapping a staff to part the sea, and in a clear voice it demanded to be <em>challenged</em>.</p><p>Maybe he could goad him a bit more.</p><p>“I was never partial to such things as a child, personally, but at the time I could conceptually understand the appeal,” he faux-mused, touching a gloved finger to his chin. “Ah, I hope you didn’t take that as an attack on your interior design aesthetic. I didn’t intend it as such. You work with what you have available, and I suppose it would be significantly more challenging to convey a mature style, given the room’s… natural limitations.”</p><p>“Yusuke gave them to me,” Akira said. “In Ikebukuro. The nude statue is from him, too, when we went to Ueno.”</p><p>Akechi felt the muscles around his eye twitch. He tried to cover it with a light laugh, which came out a bit stiff, but passably believable. Damn him. Was he unnerving on purpose or was he just this much of a brat instinctually? “Is that so?” he said, excessively polite to compensate for how much he wanted to growl and grit his teeth. “What an interesting gift.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Akira said, and there was a barely discernible hitch in his breath, like he almost kept speaking and then didn’t, like a stalled engine or a buffering website. Akechi cocked his head to the side and waited (impatiently) for the Phantom Thief to continue. “I don’t know if or how he knew, but I actually always really wanted these when I was younger.”</p><p>The Detective Prince blinked. Well. So it turns out both of them could make shy, intimate admissions. So… what was this really revealing? </p><p>“But you’ve never had them until now?” he guessed, prodding the other to explain.</p><p>Akira shook his head and pushed the bridge of his glasses up. “My family went from being pretty poor when I was born to… relatively well-off, I guess. But there were always things that didn’t take money to provide and they refused anyway,” he shrugged. “If that they didn’t think it was worthwhile, or they disapproved, or for whatever reason. Nothing important, just… stuff.”</p><p>Huh. Akechi could almost sympathize with that. He hadn’t really thought of Akira’s parents or upbringing, past what he had read and deduced from the whole assault and probation scenario. He knew both the boy’s parents were alive, and still married, and lived in a single-family home, and… that was enough to decide they had nothing in common in that respect. The idea that he might have been wrong, judged too quickly…</p><p>Ew. To both. Being wrong and being similar to Kurusu.</p><p>“I’m familiar with that feeling,” he said, peeved to find that he genuinely meant it. He sighed internally, and outwardly rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. When did he get so irritated and <em>why</em>? Was he seriously just perturbed that Joker took some <em>insignificant girl </em>to the same aquarium that they had visited over the summer? Was he-- was this-- is it <em> jealousy</em>? He was scathing, rebuking himself in the privacy of his own mind. <em> You stupid, simple piece of shit, exercise some self-control.  </em></p><p>Just because they had openly acknowledged that it was a good place to take a date and that they were there together, aware of that fact, didn’t mean that they-- tha-- it didn’t mean anything! <em> Fuck </em> <b> off</b>, brain!</p><p>And Kitagawa. Just drop every thought that comes within a ten-kilometer radius of that bumbling-idiot-slash-starving-artist in a deep pit and don’t go near it except to toss dirt into the hole. How dare he <em>exist</em>, with that face and voice and deceptively sophisticated aura, while actually being right on the border of <em>too stupid to survive</em>, with how much he spent on paint and how rarely he <em>remembered that he need to eat in order to live. </em> </p><p>Whatever. <em> Whatthefuckever. </em></p><p>Akira had claimed the chair at his work desk and was sitting, staring, seemingly content to wait and let Akechi control the flow of their dialogue. Which was <em>fine</em>, and he <em>would </em>launch into another topic any second now, he just-- <em> he </em>had been planning on sitting there, and now he had to change plans and-- fuck that diner bench, he’d rather sit on the goddamn chocolate fountain in the corner. Or. </p><p>He resisted the urge to grimace and sat gingerly and with perfect posture on the very, very edge of the bed. Except that didn’t really work because, again, plastic crates, so he had to settle back a little bit. He didn’t trust the mattress, couldn’t really relax into it. His muscles were tightly coiled in anticipation, and he was extremely aware of every place his body touched its surface.</p><p>“Are there other things you wanted that you’ve only been able to have or to do once you arrived here?” Akechi found himself asking. His inspection of the room had previously noted the presence of some small toys atop the desk, and today there was yet one more in the lineup. Kurusu followed his glance and smiled.</p><p>“I just happened to win those. No deep backstory there,” Akira said. He was probably even being sincere, but just because he wasn’t consciously aware of it didn’t mean they weren’t important to him. After all, they were displayed prominently in a high-up location: visible when he got up every morning, elevated for safe-keeping, and evidently, he was winning them on separate occasions and therefore taking repeated trips to whatever arcade they came from.</p><p>The leader of the Phantom Thieves liked stuffed animals from crane games.</p><p>Akechi had seen Joker wear many different masks and flawlessly shift his style and manner to match them, but Akira Kurusu gave off a pretty consistent impression. He was quiet, but not shy. Intelligent and well-read without putting on airs. Funny and insightful, sometimes bitingly so. Willing to overextend himself for his friends, his acquaintances, just about anyone in need within earshot, as if he thought everyone else’s comfort and happiness was worth his energy and effort. Akechi had compiled these observations like he was rotating a gem and making a note of what exactly he saw in each facet. </p><p>This was the first time he had thought of Akira as, ‘innocent.’</p><p>Unfortunate. That will only make what’s coming harder.</p><p>“There are some places in Tokyo I always wanted to go, and I have now,” Kurusu said, after apparently taking Akechi’s question quite seriously and finally giving a real answer. “Traveling outside of the country, too, even just to Hawaii. That was cool.” <em>Bumpkin. </em>“I wasn’t close to many people back home, and the friends I had definitely weren’t as, ah, diverse as the ones I have now.”</p><p>“That could imply many different things, Kurusu-kun,” Akechi said pleasantly. “What do you mean by ‘diverse’ in this instance?”</p><p>Akira’s thinking face wasn’t nearly as refined as Akechi’s. When he started going on TV as the Detective Prince, he knew he needed to cultivate a pose and expression that broadcast how thoughtful and logical he was, how much you could trust him to reason through a complex issue. So he learned how to angle his eyebrows just so, where to look relative to the position of the camera to show the right proportion of iris to whites of his eyes, how much to tilt his chin, how to carry himself. Akira just leaned back and looked <em>up</em>, and was his mouth hanging open a little bit? You <em> simpleton</em>, don’t-- </p><p>A little pink tongue swiped across the seam of his lips and Akechi’s gaze definitely did not chase it.</p><p>“The other day Ann sent me this post,” Akira said, pulling out his phone. “It said something like, every-- here it is-- ‘every friend group should have: a bimbo,” <em> what</em>, “a mean bisexual,” <em> the fuck</em>, “an even meaner lesbian, she/they’s and he/they’s,” <em> excuse me</em>, “a token straight that’s on thin ice, an astrology bitch who’s got everybody’s birth chart memorized, and a short king.”</p><p>Now Akechi’s mouth was the one left hanging open, but he snapped his jaw shut as soon as he realized that. The glitter of mirth in Akira’s eyes showed that he had seen anyway. “You’ll have to pardon my ignorance,” Akechi said in a somewhat strangled voice, slightly higher than normal and climbing by the end of the sentence. “But I’m still not sure what you’re suggesting?” </p><p>“A lot of small-town attitudes are really traditional and conservative,” Akira said, altogether too unabashed by everything that had just come out of his own mouth in the last minute. “So being anything other than straight is just not spoken of. This still isn’t queer mecca, but it’s a lot more welcoming.”</p><p>“Oh,” Akechi said. “Yes, I can see how that… But I suppose what I was asking was more about-- that list? Did you mean to say that your friend group here <em>has </em>all of those? The Phantom Thieves?”</p><p>Akira shrugged. “Kind of,” he said. “I don’t think Futaba or Yusuke have actually asked to be called by ‘they’ pronouns, but it wouldn’t surprise me, coming from either of them.”</p><p>Was this what was like to <em>gossip</em>? Akechi had only ever been the subject, not the speaker, so he felt adrift. “What about the mean bisexual and the, ah—”</p><p>“Ann. And the meaner lesbian is Makoto, and she would agree with that after she was done kicking my ass for saying it.”</p><p>“I hesitate to ask about the rest, but I must admit to being curious.”</p><p>“Ryuji or Morgana is the bimbo, I think,” Akira said, and Akechi chose to not point out how insane those words were in that order. “Either way, the other one is the token straight on thin ice. Depends on the day, really.”</p><p>Akechi just nodded mutely.</p><p>“Haru doesn’t <em>actually </em>know anyone’s birth chart-- at least I don’t think so --but she’s got that type of energy,” Akira said. “And I guess that leaves me with short king.”</p><p>“You’re not short, though,” Akechi pointed out, though he could not for the life of him begin to say why he bothered doing so. “Isn’t Sakamato-kun an inch shorter than you are?”</p><p>Akira hummed in agreement and nodded. “Then I guess Morgana can be the short king, and that means Ryuji has to be the token straight.”</p><p><em> —because Akira can’t be the token straight on thin ice because he’s </em><b><em>not </em></b><em>but does that mean he’s not straight at all or just that he’s never on thin ice and if it's the former, then does </em>—</p><p>“In which case you would be—”</p><p>“—the bimbo, yes.”</p><p>There was something in the attic with them. Not a living thing, or even a physical thing. It was something Goro became aware of, from time to time. Now that he knew how treasures and palaces and calling cards truly worked, he thought it was a bit like that: something that was clearly present but had not yet taken shape. Their… bond. It resisted naming. “Rivals” fit over it about as well as an oversized sheet, draping and concealing rather than truly being descriptive.</p><p>The shape had shifted over the course of this conversation, and Goro suspected that if he lifted that sheet he might be able to see its real form. Or at least the form that it could take.</p><p>There’s a good reason that ‘awe’ is the root of both ‘awesome’ and ‘awful’. Likewise with terror, terrible, and terrific. </p><p>“You really are always thought-provoking, Kurusu,” Goro said. He retreated into the pre-loaded voice and turnkey character of Akechi Goro, Detective Prince, and ignored ignored ignored the pots on his backburner and everything that was spilling out of them. "Now, which would you prefer tonight; Jazz Jin or Penguin Sniper?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I started writing this on day one of Shuake week based on the prompt 'Stars', and then drifted into another lane inspired by this tumblr post:<br/>kulluto.tumblr.com/post/632819828764344320/</p><p>Not super happy with how abruptly this ends so don't be surprised if I do slow sequels based on other prompts to keep playing in this space.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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